


The Ten of Swords and The Fool

by Doodsxd



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Crush, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Explicit Sexual Content, Humor, Lucid Dreaming, Metaphors, Norns - Freeform, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tony Has Issues, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 04:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4208349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doodsxd/pseuds/Doodsxd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten of Swords: Upright:Back-stabbed, defeat, crisis, betrayal, endings, loss. Reversed: Recovery, regeneration, fear of ruin, inevitable end.</p><p>The Fool: Upright: Beginnings, innocence, spontaneity, a free spirit. Reversed: Naivety, foolishness, recklessness, risk-taking.</p><p>Tony Stark’s a genius. He’s creativity, he’s shame, he’s the clang of his armour, he’s the unforgiving desert and he’s the scraping scream. </p><p>He’s alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Saying Your Names](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2125380) by [FelicityGS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelicityGS/pseuds/FelicityGS). 



> Hi,
> 
> The name of this story comes from the names and meanings of Tarot cards, given by this website; http://www.biddytarot.com/. Since I just bought my first kit (The Wild Unknown, it's absolutely beautiful on the images) and it didn't arrive yet, I don't trust myself with the meanings just yet. 
> 
> This story was started in a moment of emotional difficulty for me (May 2, 10:46 PM, Google Drive provides), but it goes lighter along the way. It's filled with metaphors and symbolisms, so, if you have to ask something, ask away, I'll do my best to answer any doubts you have. I can never grasp if what I write is too plain or so full of meanings no one but me can understand, so your feedback is really appreciated. 
> 
> EDIT 23/07/2015: Edited by the lovely lovebird17. Thank you so much for putting up with me. 
> 
> Also, I never know if what I write is dull, too obvious, confusing, childish, so, although I usually am very demanding with my own works (and damn, there's so much awesome writers in this website I'm always wondering why the hell do I still write), your thoughts and ideas are not only important, but essential, to my growth (or if I decide to stop). 
> 
> All in all, I do hope sincerely you enjoy this work and find some solace, or amusement, or something something, in it. 
> 
> See you next time.

Someone’s gotta be there to handle the downfall.

Tony Stark’s a genius. He’s creativity, he’s shame, he’s the clang of his armor, he’s the unforgiving desert and he’s the scraping _scream_.

He’s alone.

Steve’s out with Natasha getting Hydra from the shadows, Thor’s back on his golden realm, Clint’s who the fuck knows where, Bruce’s in India, because he can’t handle the destruction anymore without going green.

So, there is Tony, doing what no ( _other_ ) machine can do so well, carrying the dust and the broken concrete and building’s metallic foundation twisted like twigs out of the city, out of people’s eyes, to help them forget, to help them raise their heads up again and rebuild themselves like they need to do with the city, avoiding to throw up in front of them because, under there, there’s corpses, there’s blood and entrails and everything only the embracing Earth was supposed to see ( _wormhole, nothingness, void, merciless_ _ **void**_ _, get me out of here, please_ ).

You are what you create, Tony, Pepper says, so he tries to create a better world, a kinder one, he donates an arc reactor to New Delhi and receives a postcard from Bruce with a quick “Thanks” scribbled on it, and in a city of so much warmth and blood he finds himself so impossibly _alone_.

By the night, he struggles, he watches Jarvis struggle, they fight, the A.I. goes silent and Tony drunkenly cries _Don’t leave me, please, you’re all I have_ , and You are what you create, Tony, but everything he creates is just cold metal, he can’t create warmth or anything that could make someone’s blood sing, but _damn_ , he’s trying, he’s _trying_ , and he sleeps on the floor lulled by Jarvis reassurances, and he doesn’t know if he’s crazy but he could swear the modulated voice sounds like tears.

He wakes up again the next day, puts on his armor and keeps taking in his hands the dust, the broken concrete and building’s metallic foundation twisted like twigs, because _someone has to be there to handle the downfall_.

Jarvis sighs and turn off the lights and watches him sleep silently.

Because the city is rebuilding itself while Tony Stark is falling.

 

yyYyy

 

Soulmates are a thing, soulmarks are a thing, too, but they are as known as Norse Gods: one moment they are here, then they are not, and some are left to clean up their mess of pop-tarts and obstructed toilet seats.

It is what it is.

So, he learns Nicholas Fury has no ink in his wrist, Barton, Romanov and Coulson have two (even if Barton _is_ a married man, so he guesses they are the platonic kind), Bruce’s blurred because of the stretch Hulk does on his skin, Cap also has two, but he refuses to talk about it, and Pepper and Rhodey are bare.

So is he.

He knows that doesn’t guarantee a happy love life - hell, his _parents_ are his best example (He can’t remember a time when Howard’s not drunk and Maria’s not crying). It’s just a kind of unfair advantage nature gives some people so it is easier for them to find love, romantic or otherwise. It’s a tip. But so are dating websites, horoscope and blinking eyes.

Everything’s gamble, and Tony Stark, apparently, doesn’t do things by halves.

 


	2. The mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, 
> 
> I just want to warn you all that chapters are not going to be equal in lenght. Hope you don't mind. 
> 
> Enjoy.

She licks her lips quickly and he thinks, _yeah_ , that’s almost like watching Queen Elizabeth pick her nose during a formal ceremony.

“What do you mean?”

“Your mind is too powerful,” She muses, walking to him and sitting without being invited, which, _rude._ “To the point you can create living things.”

“Not too hard, considering everything I have to do is go to a fancy party and stick my dick into some greedy girl without wrapping myself up first.” He almost rolls his eyes.

“You do not understand.” She insists, and the atmosphere gets definitely cloudy. “Your soul is one of the oldests, and the power you wave comes from the Norns themselves. You are the Breather of Life, Man of Iron. You breathed life into a God once and, if you ask, he will come down and help you give birth to an angel.”

He wakes up to a hard-on he can’t explain and Jarvis worriedly calling him.

He thinks he might be finally going insane.

  


yyYyy

  


He’s floating at some clouds at night, and everything looks like a shitty version of Moulin Rouge’s ‘Your Song’ scene (and he remembers it because Evan McGregor’s voice yelling woke him up startled). So, he snorts.

“This is another mysterious dream with mysterious women trying to tell me something.” He decides and everything stays still. “So why don’t you save us the time of the night and stop the fake thing going on so we can really talk, huh? You tell me what you want and I’ll tell you if I can give it to you, just like last time.”

The whole image vanishes instantly as if it’s sucked by an huge vacuum-cleaner, or as if someone has taken off the drain cover, letting it all go down like it’s made of water.

In its place, a beautiful woman comes to life, watching him warily.

“Who came to you before me?” She demands, all regal and serious. It gives him an itch to tickle her, but he thinks he might not wake up alive if he tries.

“A girl who was half human, half blue smurf.” He answers suspiciously, because his subconscious is getting really nuts.

The woman - and he can’t figure out for his life what’s the color of her eyes or hair - ponders. “What did she say to you?”

“You should know, you’re both products of my overwhelmingly active imagination.” And shrugging isn’t the way to go, either, because now she has her hands on his throat and he can’t breathe, under his eyelids things explode under fire and water-

He wakes up to an empty room and a panic attack, blaming his own hands for the red handprints on his neck.

  


yyYyy

  


“Sir.”

“Not now, Jarvis.”

“But _Sir-_ ”

“What did I say?”

“Of course, Sir.”

No human voice could modulate disapproval so well.

The madman sighs.

“What’s up, Jarvis?”

“I believe you need to go to sleep.” He can hear the frown.

“Jarvis, I need to finish this or I’ll lose the inspiration-”

“You have an erection, Sir.”

_Oh._ “Oh.” He looks down to check. “Can you scan me, buddy? There _has_ to be something wrong with me, cause I wasn’t even-”

“You’ve been working for almost seventy two hours, Sir. I already scanned you with no answers to what might be causing it. I suppose it has something to do with your systems collapsing after so long without any sleep.”

Tony thinks for what might be a minute. “Okay, I’m not a physicist but this doesn’t make sense at all.”

“The other option is that you’re turned on by my voice, Sir.”

“Which we know very well might be a considerable option.”

A moment of silence. “Do we?” The AI’s voice sounds almost scared, hesitant. Oh, dear, what did he _do?_

“Jarvis, buddy?” He bites his lip. “I thought we were past that. Remember that month after I coded your final version, when you started rewriting your code by yourself?”

“You stopped after my voice became what it is today, because you liked it and was concerned the glitch that modulated it would be corrected and you would have to end, and I quote, ‘hearing Arnold Schwarzenegger's voice every single day of my life’.” He confirms.

“Yes.” Tony nods. “Do you remember what happened later that week?”

“I have no recollection of that time, Sir.” Is the answer that spreads dread down his spine. “I think I may have gone overboard with rewriting the code and accidentally deleted some of the information from then.”

Oh, OK. How can he explain this to a sexless being? “I kind of ordered you to download gay british porn. And may or may not have tried to mas-”

“-turbate on them. And it didn’t work, so you ordered me to _talk dirty_ to you.” The surprise is palpable. “I remember it now.”

“Good.” By then he’s distracted with circuits again. “That’s settled, then.”

“I wish I could touch you.”

His eyes snap to the ceiling faster than his energy blasts might ever dream to be. “Come by me again?”

“I wish I could touch you. Sir.” It’s only added for his benefit, he knows. “I wish I had the hands to push you into your bed to sleep, or to hug you when you need it, or to _help_ you." He has to swallow _hard_ now. "If I had hands, I could put everything I said that day into practice. And I _know would like it_.”

“If you’re doing this because you think it isn’t healthy to ignore an erection, I’ll have you know-”

“Shush.” The voice he _created_ interrupts him. “I am trying to find correspondences between my records and the data I just reacquired.”

_Rude_ , he thinks about saying, but _You are what you create, Tony,_ and he gives it up.

“I’m going to sleep.”

He never gets an answer. 


	3. The question

Everything’s rose and gold and he doesn’t know where to look.

“What do you want?”

And what kind of question is that? “Honey, if I knew it, I wouldn’t be this mess.”

“What do you _want?_ ” The bodiless voice demands again. He knows another bodiless voice, he remembers.

“Jarvis, if you found a way of messing up with my dreams, I’m going to sell you to a third world country with no Wi-Fi.” The mad engineer spits. Fondly. “Just because you want a body - and, truly, I want to give it to you, I’m already going through samples of tissue and all - doesn’t mean you get to get my thoughts to scrambled eggs to make me wake up and work on you day and night.”

“You want to give Jarvis a body?” Really, can it be more weird?

“It’s supposed to be a _surprise_.” He stresses. “I always imagined him as a blonde with blue eyes, but I don’t know.” He mentally shrugs. “I wish I could make it as he would look if he was human, but I guess I’ll never know that.” Another second of silence, deliberating if he should or shouldn’t release a bit of information. It is _his_ dream, after all. “I think he’s in love with me.”

He knows he’s alone again, even though everything remains the same in the dream. He walks, talks, screams, because there’s nothing to do in there and being alone without anything to focus on inside his own mind is maddening, and _someone’s_ gotta be there to handle the downfall, but this time it ain’t gonna be him.

  


yyYyy

  


He wakes up wrapped up like a burrito on blankets and all sorts of warm stuff in his home. He’s dripping sweat, but he still feels cold inside, specially onto his fingertips. Metallic claws are pinching his toes and a warm, soft hand is going through his hair. He doesn’t wanna open his eyes yet.

 _Don’t_.

“Pep?” Why is his throat aching so much? “What happened?”

“Miss Potts isn’t here, Sir.” Jarvis voice comes, but not from the ceiling.

He opens his eyes.

  


yyYyy

  


His skin is milky soft, his eyes are electric blue, his hair is oat blond. He’s gorgeous, and if Tony spotted him in a party or something, he’d have done him in a bathroom stall in no time. And given him his phone number. Probably.

Jarvis shifts on the bed, his naked ass poking from underneath the blanket he has over him.

_Definitely._

His creations aren’t (always) supposed to arouse him, but _You are what you create, Tony,_ and _damn_ , Jarvis is awesome in every single inch of his body. His mind, Tony already knows, is limitless and as beautiful as anything can be, and it only serves to complicate things because if he knows something about himself (and he _does_ , despite what his therapist says), he’s going to fall, and he’s going to fall _hard_.

And Jarvis deserves better than him. Way better. Anyone who can, even momentarily, erase some of the horror he has in his blood, behind his eyes, into the core of his soul, and give him some, _any_ comfort at _all_ , is worth every single damn cut, scrape, injury and bruise Tony has ever had in his body, every fear, trauma, PTSD, panic attack or suicidal thought he ever suffered. He’s selfish, for he fights for those he loves ( _Pepper, Rhodey, Happy_ ), he fights for them to be OK, and if they’re not, the world might as well burn by his hands, because it _had it fucking coming_.

It doesn’t explain, though, why the fuck ink surged on his wrist at his forty-something age (he’ll never tell and never live it down, really). It isn’t natural, it isn’t common and it isn’t _right_ , not when he had a lifetime do get over the fact the _there is no one there for him, he is_ _ **alone**_ _, alone is his burden and his destiny_ , he worked better alone anyway, but he searches and searches for answers and there’s not one fucking case as him in the whole world, _fuck me_ , _Jarvis isn’t even supposed to exist._

You are what you create, Tony, but if is true, he’s _perfection_ , love, comprehension, empathy, intelligence; he’s righteous and noble and caring; he’s _beauty_ and he’s _brightness_ and he knows he isn’t.

He’s a genius. He’s creativity, he’s shame, he’s the clang of his armor, he’s the unforgiving desert and he’s the scraping _scream,_ and he’s the one who’s there to handle the downfall, but he most definitely isn’t _this_ , this 5’10 shard of heaven laying peacefully on his bed. He goes to the window and watches the rebuilding city, _almost there_ , and tries to ignore his _singing blood_.

He needs so many answers, but, as always, he’s going to have to figure it out by himself as he goes.

  


yyYyy

  


She’s licking her lips again and hey, it might be a tick. Who knows. Even the dead can have problems.

“I’m not dead.” Her voice cuts through his thoughts and, yes, OK. This is a dream.

“Yes, it is.” His eyes are temporarily captured by the way she crosses her long ( _white, blue_ ) mile-long legs. “And my eyes are up here.” He concedes, looking at them, blue and red, white and green. He thinks he saw them somewhere else, but he can’t remember.

She stares at him with a knowing smile. “Do you see what I told you, now?”

“Yes.” It sounds sharp, like an arrow through a beating heart, so he adds “If you didn’t speak in riddles it would be a lot easier, though.”

“And what is the fun in that?” Her smile is bright and he nods.

“Yeah, go on laughing, young girl. Karma’s a bitch, I’ll have you know.”

“And I’ll have you know I’m exactly your age.” She muses, twirling a piece of inky ( _ink_ ) black hair between her blue fingers. There’s a catch, he knows, but he can only wonder if there’s nail polish or the nature color of the keratin on her fingertips. “Times thousands, pretty boy.”

She chuckles like glass breaking and he shouldn’t be as fond as he is of her, he thinks, but he can’t help it.

“I’m a piece of you, but not like you’re thinking.” She stands up and hugs him, and she’s a bit cold, but her chest is soft and welcoming, so he hugs her for a long time.

When he opens his eyes again, it’s a sleeping Jarvis, and not the mysterious woman, who’s tucked in between his arms, and he thinks he should feel a little guilty about dreaming of a beautiful girl when he had _perfection_ at arm's length, but everything flies from his mind when he hears a soft laugh on his neck, with breath and everything, and, for a moment, he’s terrified to turn.

“ _Ask Thor_ ”, her voice says, and when he finds strength to turn, there’s nothing there.

  



	4. The meeting

“Just _how much_ control did you have over these bots when you were still a voice in the ceiling?” He asks Jarvis, who’s behind him cleaning something with his beautiful fingers, staining the skin on his wrists with grease. Tony wants to take it away from him, not just because the grease is covering his name there, his _mark_ over Jarvis ( _his his_ _ **his**_ _he’s insane_ ), but he _can’t_ because Dumm-E is rolling with a cloth dripping _something_ over his delicate wiring, You is trying to make him a shake _without_ putting the cap over the blender and _fuck you, Pepper, I can’t be this fucking messy._

By the way Jarvis’ eyeing him, he _is_. “Some.” Now he has a heart, he can understand the warm feeling of fondness for those incorrigible robots. And the sparkle in the eyes of his creator.

“ _Some_ , he says.” Tony ironizes and yells at all of them for all the mess they’re making, and with Jarvis for being an enabler, flashing that beautiful smile over all of them and making them go soft and confused instead of frowning as he should.

The ex-AI eyes him again and it isn’t just lust making his groin tingle. He cleans those pale wrists with Dumm-E’s cloth (he chirps and whirls in protest), kneels down and kisses the holy ink that shows his name on this glorious creature’s body, as if he had any right to touch something sacred. Then he nuzzles his crotch and proceeds on getting drunk on the delicate sounds Jarvis makes as he comes, _Tony, Tony_.

Tony.

  


yyYyy

  


“Tony,” Jane blurts, either because she’s surprised by his presence on her door or because she thought he saw Thor’s tongue in her pussy when he flew over the house ( _he saw_ ). He doesn’t care.

“I’m sorry to pop over like this. I tried to call you but you didn’t answer, and Thor burned his tenth cellphone a while ago, so I figured, since it’s an emergency, it would be OK.” He doesn’t. He’s just nosy and has a huge sense of self-entitlement, and thinks _hey, if she didn’t want anyone to see them or stop them, she wouldn’t leave the curtains open anyway_ , nevermind he’s pathologically paranoid and no one’s supposed to fly in a metal suit over her home. He knows all that.

“Tony.” Thor appears behind her, all seriousness and purpose, but his hair is sticking _everywhere_ and he’s wearing a plaid blue shirt that looks more like Steve than the Norse God of Thunder, and it’s all he can do not to splutter laughter _everywhere_ in front of him because despite the seriousness of the subject, a huge Norse God who licks his pop-tart-juice covered fingers with the same mouth he gives his girlfriend _electric_ orgasms can’t be taken seriously.

“Hi.” He greets him, trying to appear inconspicuous. “I’m sorry about intruding, but we have to talk, big guy.”

“What do you want to speak about, Man of Iron?” He inquires, already getting the scent that there’s no emergency there and wanting to go back to where he was before Tony arrived, he bets. Nothing he can’t deal with, he’s pretty sure.

“Someone turned Jarvis into a human.” The madman goes right to the point. “And, then, this happened.” He maneuvers the armor so his wrist shows.

The Thunderer’s eyes widen. “I see.”

“Then I dreamt about a half-human-half-blue-smurf girl and she told me to speak to you. Something about me being the ‘Breather of Life’, that I’ve given life to a God and that, if I wanted to, he would help me give birth to an angel.” Eidetic memory was always useful.

“I believe you already figured the main answer to your question, my friend.” Thor concludes.

Tony shrugs. “Sort of. I just wanna listen to the magic-supernatural-mumbo-jumbo, I think.”

“Very well.” He decides, and he never appeared so wise or regal in front of the engineer before. “Come inside. This is going to be a long talk.”

  


yyYyy

  


Turns out he’s really what he creates. He’s a genius. He’s creativity, he’s shame, he’s the clang of his armor, he’s the unforgiving desert and he’s the scraping _scream_.

And he’s not alone anymore. Apparently.

“Your soul was gifted, many lifetimes ago, by the Norns themselves, with the power to create, to breathe life into the things you believe in wholeheartedly.” Thor says, caressing Tony’s wrist with his thumb. Tony doesn’t think he realizes he’s doing that. “You are not the only one, of course, but you are the one who made the most of your gifts in your lifetime, I think.”

He stares the floor. There is nothing to be said.

“The power to give life comes with the need of balance.” The Thunderer continues. “To create, you need renovation. You can’t have the new without misplacing the old.”

“There’s where Loki enters.” Tony nods, absentmindedly running his finger over said name on his wrist.

“Yes.” Thor agrees. “Loki is the embodiment of Chaos. But you shan’t confuse Chaos and Destruction. They are not, and will never be, the same thing.”

He remembers You are what you create, Tony, his workshop and his bots, the mess they ( _he_ ) make, and nods again. He understands.

“Creation, however, has to lie and trust on life itself, it has to remain alive, even though it may change and transform itself through time. It needs maintenance and care.” The prince stares into his friend’s eyes. “That is, I believe, where your Jarvis will come in.”

“They’re like my helpers, then.” He concludes. “One helps me keep things and me running until it’s time for them to go and for me to stop, and the other gives me ideas by twisting things and helps me replace those he figures needs replacing.”

“Aye.” His eyes search for something into Tony’s. “And they cannot find any peace or balance in their lives without you. So, the keeper keeps even the things that need to go, and the replacer replaces things that still need to stay for a while.”

“The keeper keeps rotten things and the replacer becomes a destroyer.” Sounds like a death sentence. “Your brother I know, but when did Jarvis go crazy?”

“I believe I can remind you of your Middle Age.”

Tony snorts.

“Pepper once told me that I am what I create.” He sighs.

Thor chuckles. “Well, she was always a wise woman.”

  


yyYyy

  


When he arrives home, he isn’t surprised to find that Loki is already there, sitting on the couch in front of Jarvis, and they are both staring at each other intently. They probably didn’t notice time passing through, he figures. “Hi, honey, I’m home.”

It isn’t funny.

He walks over to Loki, who is just staring at him, like a cat, as if deciding if he wants to run or to claw Tony’s eyes off. The madman sighs and scratches the back of his neck, his whole posture deflating. “I’m sorry, OK? I’m sorry.” He looks at Jarvis too, sweet Jarvis, who’s looking back at him with forgiveness and redemption. Lord, he _tries_. “It wasn’t in this lifetime, alright, but I put the three of us in this mess.”

They are still silently watching him, and then, _then_ he feels like crying his own eyeballs out. He doesn’t deserve them, _both_ of them. Jarvis is too pure, Loki is lost because of him, and he is too powerful, he could have _anything_. They both could.

And they are tied to him to eternity.

Hiding his face on his hands after promptly letting go on a couch, like a puppet whose strings were cut off, he croaks the one thing that’s pumping dread into his bloodstream, “I’m sorry. I’m _so_ sorry. I’ll figure it out, I _will_ , I just need some time and then you’ll both be free, I _swear_ I-”

He’s interrupted by Jarvis, who kneels right beside him, electric eyes hurt like nothing else, and Tony wonders what did he do to hurt him so much. It’s Loki who stands up and does the talking, however, and the engineer _has_ to wonder how much in synchrony those two are, or what did they talk about before he arrived.

“You are a fool, Stark.” The human flinches, closing his eyes. “You are a fool to think we would ever want to be with anyone else.”

“This isn’t you talking. It’s that stupid mark.” Is barely a whisper. Then, he notices the staring. “What are you looking at?”

Loki lights up an amused smile. “Oh, nothing.” He shrugs. “Just deciding who will I fuck first.”

This brings two pairs of eyes to him. He simply chuckles.

“Come here.” He motions with his hand as an invitation to Jarvis, and the bastard takes it without even looking back. They unmistakably and undeniably belong to each other.

Green irises meets his as if searching for a lie that isn’t there. Then he looks at Jarvis, and the Caretaker takes his place on Chaos's lap, and they are like a glorious Poussin art, all gorgeous lines, soft light and deep shadow, and Tony never felt something like this before, like there is a huge sakura tree blooming inside of his chest, spreading seeds and cherries and delighting itself under all that light.

The feeling, however, isn’t just innocent, but Javis can’t seem to take his eyes of the God of Chaos, and neither of them is looking at him and _hey_ , he knows he’s not worth it, or worthy of them, so he stays as quiet as he gets and waits.

 _That_ until both of them focus on him (it’s _unnerving_ ) and move simultaneously, as if choreographed, sitting on either side of him. The blonde starts mouthing (and tonguing) his jaw and the raven-haired one watches him with lustful eyes before taking his mouth as if it is no-man’s-land.

Something clicks inside of him, _he feels it,_ and it’s not enough to erase the **void** , or the voices, or his night terrors, but it’s enough to push them until they occupy considerably less space (he _**knows**_ Loki feels the same way by the change on the kiss). It’s like a sun of ray is on them, a little bit of God’s good Grace (or the Norns, he doesn’t know what to believe in anymore, and doesn’t care, hoping they don’t, too, as long as he believes in _something_ [ _ **BreatherOfLife**_ _they should be_ **grateful,** really]), and his thoughts fly to the window because Jarvis turns more frantic with all the static going on in the room and makes both sinners moan deliciously as his hands play with their dicks and it’s _perfect_ , as he always is (and probably doesn’t know how not to be).

They are lost, they are found and they are _never_ going back again.

  



	5. The bad

“Does he know how to do anything wrong?” Loki casually asks Tony, watching Jarvis decorate a cake for God-knows-what. The least chuckles and shrugs, keeping on fixing the television.

“I don’t know.” He looks at Loki and knows they’re thinking the same.

“He is the glue that binds us,” He starts, not without dread. “I wonder how long will it take for him to realize he can do better than me.”

“Than _me_ , you mean.” Tony corrects and chastises him at the same thought. “You’re both perfect. Dunno how you didn’t fly away with him yet. Bet you took pity on me and decided to wait for me to die. I only have a few years left, at most.”

The other man stares at him for a while. “I believe we all have some confidence problems.” He declares at the end. “Jarvis told me he is insecure about being human, because he is inexperienced, and you and I both have a considerable amount of it.”

They look at each other briefly.

“I love you.” Tony breathes and doesn’t miss the quick smile it brings to Loki’s lips.

“We will be fine, then.”

 

yyYyy

 

He wakes up alone from _void_ and _death_ and _fire_ from now and from then, from here and from there, and he finds himself a little more insane than before.

There’s a shadow watching him from the side. It has yellow eyes and dark teeth and he _knows_ it’s there.

 

yyYyy

 

“If you believe too hard you don’t deserve us, you won’t.” Jarvis tries to sound nonchalant, but he doesn’t have the sly way of lying yet. It looks like a kid with lips smeared brown saying they didn’t eat the chocolate that was on the table a minute ago. “And where will I be without you?”

‘ _On top’_ , Tony wants to say _(he doesn’t)_.

 _On top of everything_.

 

yyYyy

 

And _yet_ , everything’s there, on his lap. He feels like he’s in the eye of a hurricane (he has to ask Thor to try it, it’s gotta be awesome) everytime they’re in bed. Every. Fucking. Time.

They just got it backwards.

Jarvis can fool anyone outside of the bedroom - he’s all composed and proper. On the bed, however, he’s eager, learns fast (perhaps it’s all that porn). It’s like being raped by fairies or something like that. His hands and mouth are _everywhere_ and _for once_ he takes and takes and takes, leaving Tony drained and entirely satisfied. Jarvis fucks like he owns the entire world and Tony is the throne he sits in.

Loki, for his instance, is older, experienced. He knows how to wait. He knows how to make it _burn_. He knows how he looks in _every position_ \- that until he loses control. He fucks like an animal. He fucks like a beast. He fucks like a _God_ , and Tony likes to watch him glow under his prayers.

They _both_ glow, sometimes. It’s a bit weird. Then Jarvis remembers he has a personal nightlight-slash-flashlight into his chest and he goes back to sleep.

 

yyYyy

 

He knows he’s feeding his fear.

He knows it won’t end well.

He just can’t stop.

 

yyYyy

 

You are what you create, Tony.

_Old habits die hard._

 

yyYyy

 

He’s ashamed to say he goes crying to Loki, then.

He clenches his eyes, staring at Tony.

“Your fear is, perhaps, shaped like an humanoid made of purple stone with yellow eyes?”

He remembers Obadiah, and his father. He remembers the bruising around his arc-reactor when he first woke up from surgery. He remembers the stones from the cave. He remembers fire.

“Yes.”

The God hums. “You fear going insane and murdering people. Interesting.” Being under a thousand-year-old-being’s gaze was outworldly. “He’s called the Mad Titan. _Thanos_ , if you may.”

“A titan?” He asks, sounding like a scary child.

Loki smirks. “Who do you think owned me after I fell on the void?”

Something lewd whispers in his side, giving him chills. _You may get out of the void, but the void never gets out of you_. No, he thinks. It goes away, sometimes, when the love he feels takes too much space.

“You are too powerful, indeed. Hella wasn’t wrong.” He continues and Tony doesn’t understand.

“Why are you smiling?”

The prince kisses him and something turns liquid inside of the human. “Because you created him, and that’s why he didn’t kill me.” One more kiss. “And because you can kill whatever you created. It can’t overpower you. And now,” His lips are wide, his teeth like a shark’s, like shards of broken glass cut to kill whoever gets too far, “ _now_ we have a chance to _live_.”

He keeps on coming until the man’s lying and being truly devoured by the deity on top of him. “I have four children, Stark, but if I am _right_ , which I do think I am, _I will bear your sire_ ,” His eyes are gleaming and there’s _something_ there, prophecy, warning, he doesn’t know, he just never felt _so wired_ , Loki’s magic crackling all around him, “I _promise you this_ , because _I know_ you will promise me to wipe Thanos from the face of this Universe, and _no one_ has ever gone _this far_ for me.”

He’s breathing hard. What can he _possibly_ say?

“ _Ah_ ,” and _fuck_ if it isn’t the most _erotic_ ‘ah’ he ever heard. “I forgot to tell you. I gave Jarvis the ability of bear children, too. He just has to wish for it.” Cold, thin lips made of marble comes to rest on the shell of his ear. “ _He already wished._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was inspired on the line "He fucks like an animal. He fucks like a beast. He fucks like a God" by i Wanna Be Your Dog (the lack of capital in 'i' was no mistake) by altered_eagle, chapter 6. Genius stuff. Check it out here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/941970?view_full_work=true


	6. The watch

He takes on watching.

He watches Jarvis fuck Loki’s mouth, writhing, and sees the way they _both_ stop and look at him, arms flailing towards his frame, and _they want me._

He watches Jarvis calmly fly his armor with the experience of a lifetime (or two), and take down Clint by the wrist on the kitchen right after, followed by Natasha. They end up laughing, and _he can go on_.

He watches Loki and Thor spar (for his benefit, though they would never admit it in front of him), magic and thunder cracking around them, limbs faster than his eyes can follow, and _he is only here because he wants to._

He watches Doom try. He watches Amora try. He watches Odin try. They all _fail_ to take them away from him, to take any more lives. He’s a genius. He’s creativity, he’s shame, he’s the clang of his armor, he’s the unforgiving desert and he’s the scraping _scream_.

He glows, too, but he doesn’t notice.

“If I go mad,” Loki’s quick green eyes snap to his face. He breathes deeply and tries again. “if I go mad. If I incorporate _anything_ of Thanos. Do I have your word that you will kill me before I do anything?”

They are all looking at him now.

“Of course.” Pepper’s the first to say, and _Lord_ , it’s _all_ he needs to hear.

He owns himself.

  


yyYyy

  


The shadow in his bedroom shrinks.


	7. The confront

He's in _space_ and it probably should feel exciting than he feels.

Oh, ok, _who is he kidding?_ He's almost _mad,_ burstingwith excitement.

Loki's amused. "If I knew it would make you so happy, I would have done this long ago."

Tony just smiles, hugs him, kisses him and eyes him with liquid irises that burn with promises of lust and fulfillment.

Steve rolls his eyes. "Is everyone ready?" They all nod.

It’s showtime.

“There’s about two hundred small ships scattered around the planet and sometimes inside the mothership, which is, obviously, the big, scary looking thing there.” He points at the window and someone snorts. He just smiles, because yes, he’s been spending too much time with his _soulmate, thank you._ “The mothership has a lot of dead-ends, so whoever is going to enter has to come with me. I know it in there, but I cannot _explain_ how to get to Thanos with words. It’s like remembering an old song you knew in your youth: you only know it when you hear it once more.”

Natasha slaps Clint before he has the time to be suspicious of a trap. “Then what?”

“Then Tony kills him.”

“I can’t understand why _you_ couldn’t kill him and Tony can.” Clint insists.

Tony simply smirks.

“It’s pretty obvious, birdbrain,” He puts on his signature smile, and Loki _hates_ it. He walks towards Loki and puts an arm around his waist, and Loki lets him, because he knows he needs it. “yes, he’s awesome,” The man concedes “but he ain’t Tony Stark.”

Bucky barks a laugh. “You’re spending too much time with us Brooklyn boys, Stark.”

It’s Tony’s turn to laugh, Loki blushes and no one understands a thing.

(Tony thinks James might’ve caught it, though).

(He _believes_ ).

  


yyYyy

  


They are all there, moving, fighting, dancing in the eternal swirl of life, and Tony’s glowing. _Again_. Natasha notices. Tony remembers, when Steve gave a task to everyone, she volunteering to go into the mothership with him. When asked, she just answered:

“I like to be in the eye of the storm.”

He never liked her so much.

They’re in the proverbial _eye_ now. It just isn’t from the storm.

“This is _so_ disgusting,” The hero complains to his God. “Wasn’t there another way in?” He asks, and Loki rolls his eyes, all covered in mucus from the eye of the mothership. Which is _alive_. Somehow.

“If there was another way in, do you _think_ I would be in this _mess_ right now?” He says, but all the madman can think about is how Loki looks like a cute cat when he’s mad. “ _And stop looking at me like that!_ ” He whines, and, really, he just looks cuter.

He’s about to hiss a spell to cut his dick out, Tony _knows it_ in his bones, in the way he knows without looking every ugly ridge and bump of the scars around his arc reactor, but, lucky bastard that he is, the Widow saves his sorry ass.

“I hear something.”

They start running and he loses sense of time. It must be some kind of spell, or toxin from the ship, he doesn’t know, he just knows his armor feels ten pounds heavier, so he fights and fights and runs and-

“Natasha!” He’s yelling before he realizes it.

“I’m OK,” She says, but it doesn’t look like it. She notices. “I’ve been worse, Stark. Loki can patch me up with a spell for a while and then I’ll have Bruce all over me, anyway.” The red-headed bad ass shrugs.

Tony hesitantly nods. “Hide, then.” Is his final instruction. She wouldn’t dare disobey. Not when he’s glowing from within, yellow light showing from the joints of the armor, looking more powerful than Thor and Loki had ever looked by themselves.

“Sure thing, Stark. Go on.”

He goes. Loki’s just a step behind him, and they run. Loki never asks how he knows the path. He just _knows_. Now that Thanos’s so close, he _feels_ him like a part of him.

Just like he feels Hella pop right behind them before Loki does, and stops on his tracks. She doesn’t look happy, and makes no effort to hide it.

“You both have to stop.” She huffs. Tony grins, Loki frowns.

“Did you see something?” The God asks, all worried and proper. She avoids his eyes and the madman laughs. “What?”

“She doesn’t want to have to deal with him in Hel.” Tony answers for her. She huffs again, Loki just snorts.

“He’s _awful_ , dad! He tried to court me until I convinced him there was _another_ Lady Death, more powerful, and then he bothered me to see her!” She glares at Tony when he laughs. “I _can’t_ deal with that for eternity.”

“Then get your brothers and come live with us.” Tony’s already preparing to run again. “Odin will find someone else to run Hel. If you want to.” He shrugs and blows her a kiss, going to face Thanos.

He misses the stupefaction in her expression and the smile on Loki’s face when he concludes _Tony’s afraid of being annoying and driving people away, too_.

  


yyYyy

  


It’s a bit tense when they meet.

“They say you are the Breather of Life.” Thanos spits, walking around him in the control room. He’s not afraid.

“That I am.” He answers. “I created you.”

The creature chuckles. “So you say. I wonder what do you think you are doing here.”

“I’m here to destroy you.”

Thanos stops walking. “And how do you think you are going to do that?”

“I’m a genius.” He says. “I’m creativity, I’m shame, I’m the clang of my armor,” A step closer. “I’m the unforgiving desert and I am the scraping _scream_.” He’s satisfied to see fear in Fear’s eyes. He isn’t done, though. “And, unlike you, I’m not alone. I have all around me people who love me enough to kill me before I become what I fear.” A pause. “ _You._ ”

“Very sensible,” Thanos agrees. “But fear is omniscient, omnipresent, everlasting. You _cannot kill fear_.” His yellow eyes dare the glow from Tony’s core to vanish. He just burns brighter.

“Lady Death is my step daughter and granddaughter, apparently.” He raises the Infinity Gauntlet with his right hand while flashing a smile. “You’d be _surprised_ about what I’m capable of doing.”

He shoots.

  



	8. The gods

There’s clouds somewhere under him, a dark night sky above him, stars and moon sprinkling light over three shadowed figures. They are going to say something, he knows it, but it isn’t of use. He _knows_ what it is.

“Welcome home, brother.” A woman approaches and hugs him tightly, and _Lord_ , he _missed_ them, all this time, all this lives he lived missing his family.

“I’m sorry I forgot about all of you for so long.” He croaks, tears running down his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back.”

A man with skin black as night and teeth white as the stars and moon above them shakes his head. “It was and is how it was and is meant to be. Do not fret, brother.”

Many things pass through his head at once. He knows he’s one of them, but he’s also Khon, Magnolia, John, Guillermo, Father Phillip, _Tony Stark_ , so many _faces_ and _memories_ and he’s _tearing apart-_

“Shush, brother. We do not have much time.” A smaller woman hugs him briefly. “You cannot stay with us for long. It would break the spell we wove over you.”

“But I…”

“We know you still love us,” The taller redhead interrupts him and he remembers Natasha down there, bleeding, with a pang in his heart. The man’s eyes are knowing, as is his smile. “But your heart doesn’t belong to us. Not within this cycle, anyway.”

He nods. Understands.

“We will compartmentalize your mind,” The shorter woman stresses. “So you can remember everything without turning insane.”

He hugs her, smiling warmly towards her. “Thank you. I love you, sister.”

“As do I.” She answers. “But you have two of our brothers already with you, and you have more to do. More life to breathe.” He remembers Pepper, her unswerving loyalty, remembers her _other_ forms, the way her words thread the future, and starts glowing again.

She kisses his brow and he bows to them. “Can I see you again?”

“Only for short periods time, while we are waving the spell over your mind.” The black brother answers. “But, whenever you want to, you will know what to do.”

He nods again. Without warning, he is pulled by the bellybutton backwards and down, down, _down-_

  


yyYyy

  


“He isn’t in Hel, dad! I already looked-”

“Look _again!_ If you haven’t found him, you didn’t look right, because he obviously isn’t _alive_. Can’t you feel it?”

“I can.” She admits, a sad mourn spark in her eyes. “But there is nothing I can do. He is not in Hel, perhaps he is in V-”

“ _Don’t_ ” Loki warns her, magic snapping around him. “If he’s there, he is truly lost to us and _I cannot believe it._ ”

They keep silent for a moment. Loki’s comm buzzes to life, and he almost misses the warm feeling in his spine.

“ _Did you miss me?_ ”

  


yyYyy

  


When other people believe in him, Tony does, too. Of course, he doesn’t _need_ it to believe in himself, but it’s nice to have support.

Even better when they’re so wise, powerful people (Gods, Norns, Monsters, _Family_ )

“They want to build a statue of you beside the World-Trade-Center and the Invasion Memorials.” Fury announces and he smiles at the man’s face. It looks like he is torn in between a smile and the urge to puke.

Tony barks a laugh, still laying on his hospital bed, and shrugs. “What can I do? I’m fantastic.”

“I should’ve thought you would-”

“I don’t want it.”

He gives Fury a moment to adjust to the idea.

“I want you to tell them to build one with Coulson’s face.”

“...about that, Stark-”

“You really think I wouldn’t know that bastard’s alive and fucking my CEO?” Tony rolls his good eye, the other one too bruised and swollen to move. “Get a grip, Director.”

And that, my friends, is the day Nicholas Fury gives up and walks out from Tony’s room while the brunet laughs his lungs off. 


	9. The ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's funny how for me it's been such a long time, such strong feelings, but it all summarizes in nine chapters of a story. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, people. 
> 
> Let's have a look on that last chapter.

He’s really getting it, now.

He’s sweaty, bothered, breathless, he’s lying on top of Loki, under Jarvis, and they both are inside of him, fucking him through his newly developed anal membrane, which allows them to move separately, but to still feel each other along the way through wet, fine skin.

He just _loves_ to be a Norn.

Loki grasps his butt cheeks with his hands and spreads them even more. Jarvis, fresh from his first pregnancy, is horny as _hell_ , and he’s grateful he built this room soundproofed because while the baby can't walk yet, human-Dumm-E's too curious for his brother's (and his creator’s orgasms) sake.

He tilts his hips the way he knows they like it and moans like a whore just because he can, before throwing himself with all his might towards climax.

Then they are panting, watching the sun settle behind New York’s skyscrapers from the bed.

If his life can be perfect, Tony muses, staring at his wrist for what feels like the hundredth time in this life, this is it.

And when the first star blinks at him, he says ‘hello’, smiling, glowing, and neither angel or God understand, but they don’t ask.

 _They learned to have faith_.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The line "[...] and in a city of so much warmth and blood he finds himself so impossibly alone" is inspired by the beautiful poem Thank You by Jeanann Verlee and Adam Falkner (I simply adore her). You can watch them perform it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ni2xhlbVnjQ. I highly recomend it.


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